


Like a Cloudless Blue Sky

by tuesday



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 06:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Draco Malfoy was a brat. That was Charlie's first impression of his soulmate. A kid his brother's age who'd been spoiled beyond belief.





	Like a Cloudless Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiffElderberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/gifts).



Draco Malfoy was a brat. That was Charlie's first impression of his soulmate. A kid his brother's age who'd been spoiled beyond belief.

"You're going home," Charlie said.

"You're coming with me," Draco declared.

Charlie sighed. He was terribly glad that Bill was keeping Ginny and Ron entertained, their mum was too busy in the kitchen to have seen the floo activate, and the twins were off plotting mischief in their room. He picked the kid up and plucked up a handful of floo powder.

"What's your address?" Charlie asked.

"Malfoy Manor," the kid enunciated clearly as Charlie tossed the powder in the fireplace. Charlie tossed the kid in after it.

Charlie dusted off his hands. He went back to the living room. He thought, very firmly, _Not my problem_. Under his sleeve, his soulmark burned. It felt like childish rage, like a brat throwing a temper tantrum.

Charlie didn't care. He didn't need a soulmate. He was going to graduate Hogwarts and go to Romania to work on a dragon reserve. A nine year old couldn't compete with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

**

The next time Charlie saw Draco, he was still a brat, but now he was a Slytherin brat hanging around the temporary dragon pens like he was hoping to get his arm chewed off.

"Dumb beasts," Draco muttered. "Who'd want to spend their days shoveling dung and dodging fire blasts when they could live with peacocks and the best possible dragon instead?"

"I would," Charlie said.

"You should come home." Draco put his hands on his hips. "I understand wanting to escape from the hovel you grew up in—"

"Hey," Charlie said mildly.

"—but I could provide you with so much more."

"I like my job." Charlie put a hand on Draco's shoulder and drew him back from the pens. The dragons might be sedated right now, but they were nesting mothers. Charlie didn't need a soulmate, but he didn't want to see him maimed, either. "And you're what, twelve? Pretty sure you're not the one making decisions about who can live in your house."

"I'm fourteen," Draco protested. "And I'm sure Father would be pleased to host my soul's match."

Oh, yeah. Charlie was sure Lucius would love to have his only son's soulmate right where he could reach him. Honestly, Charlie felt like he was taking a risk coming back to Britain at all.

"Stay away from the dragons," Charlie said as he released Draco. "They're not dumb beasts, but they are dangerous and they understand enough to want to take a bite out of anyone insulting them."

**

The third time they met, Draco was all grown up. The haughtiness had faded to be replaced by wariness, weariness. His time in the war had done him no favors. The baby fat was gone, and he was all sharp angles and thin wrists. His eyes were haunted.

"You're in Britain," he said. There was no joy to it, only a dull surprise.

Charlie picked up the packages Draco had dropped on seeing him in the street. "Tell me, do you like it here?"

"It's home," Draco said, which wasn't an answer.

"Home can be more than one place." Charlie passed the packages over. "It's not a mansion, and there are no peacocks, but my cabin has room for two." A lock of Draco's hair was sticking up. Charlie smoothed it down. "Think about it."

"I will," Draco said quietly.

**

"The accommodations leave much to be desired." Draco had a mild sneer seemingly semi-permanently attached to his face. "I'll have one of the house elves bring bedding from home. What sort of rags are these?"

"My mother made those," Charlie said.

Draco dropped the quilts he'd been disparaging. "I suppose they can stay."

Draco was all grown up, but he was still a brat. Despite himself, Charlie smiled. If he'd loved easy creatures, he'd never have become a dragon handler.

Charlie didn't need a soulmate, but the thought of keeping this one was growing on him.


End file.
